


barely blur

by bluelines



Category: Hockey RPF, Women's Hockey RPF
Genre: F/F, Hook-Up, Olympics, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 16:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13708554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluelines/pseuds/bluelines
Summary: The Olympic Village is renowned for its hookups. Every athlete in the Village gets access to as many condoms as they could possibly want, and Hilary and Amanda find an unexpected use for a box that might otherwise have gone to waste.





	barely blur

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this other than the fact that someone made them roommates.

There’s something kind of absurd about being handed a box of condoms when almost nobody in the room is going to use them.

Amanda almost gives it back when the woman at the door hands them over, but instead she murmurs an awkward thanks and turns around to the rest of her roommates. 

“Here, I guess,” she says, handing the box to Alex.

“Oh, wow,” Alex says, “I don’t need these.”

“If you get pregnant I’ll kill you,” Hilary pipes up from the couch, where her feet are in Hannah’s lap. Hannah has been resting her laptop on top of Hilary’s ankles for twenty minutes. It hasn’t gone well.

“Condoms aren’t the only birth control,” Alex says, laughing, dropping the box on the coffee table.

The condoms sit there for days before Amanda thinks about them again. She’s just watched the stupid Cosmo Snap story that Hilary is in, talking about hookups in the Olympic village, and Amanda is a little annoyed that Hilary seems to _know_ something, and she doesn’t. She’s never heard about any hookups, outside of people in relationships, and she wants to know. She also, suddenly, really wants to get laid.

It’s been a while. She’s trying to decide how long when she reaches for the box on the table and holds one of the condoms between her thumb and forefinger. Hilary, the only other one in the suite, raises her eyebrows from her armchair. 

“They have to get used somehow,” Amanda says.

“Huh,” Hilary says, and Amanda knows exactly why. It’s not that she hasn’t slept with men, it’s that she hasn’t in years and she doesn’t want to, and it’s probably pretty obvious. Most of her teammates know her as gay, which is more or less how she’d describe herself if pressed, but she doesn’t want to be pressed. And she doesn’t want it to get out. She has things to do, and dealing with _that_ doesn’t fit into her schedule.

“I don’t want to remake my Tinder here,” she says. 

“Why not?” Hilary asks, “everyone here is hot and in shape.” 

She’s scrolling, not looking at Amanda, who tells herself it was definitely not a compliment. Hilary’s right, anyway.

“Same reason you wouldn’t show up if I started swiping,” Amanda says. She’s being presumptuous, but she thinks she knows Hilary enough to know that she’s right. 

“I don’t need Tinder,” Hilary says, in that perfectly, casually cocky way that she says anything about herself. If Amanda didn’t know Hilary better it would be maddening, but she’s known Hilary long enough to know that it’s really a self-deprecating joke of sorts. More accurately, Hilary finds it hilarious that people think she’s as skilled as she is. Or, apparently, as hot as she is. Amanda’s thumb is hovering over the App Store button when Hilary speaks again.

“And neither do you,” she says.

Amanda looks up. Hilary is not on her phone anymore, she’s leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, looking at Amanda expectantly. Amanda blushes when Hilary’s gaze trails over her lips and settles somewhere around the collar of her v-neck.

“Our beds are really small,” is the first thing Amanda says.

“Yup,” Hilary says, “never stops college students.”

“Hannah or Alex could walk in any second,” Amanda says.

“Your room, then,” Hilary says, “I’m sure Hannah’s seen you doing worse.”

She’s not wrong. Amanda bites her lips and Hilary stares at them. It’s not like Amanda has never hooked up with a teammate before, but she’s never done it with a national team teammate, and she’s definitely never done it at the Olympics. It’s also Hilary who’s suggesting it, and Amanda’s not going to pretend that she’s never thought about it. Hilary is extremely, annoyingly Amanda’s type, in her baggy joggers that are tight at her ankles and a t shirt that doesn’t fit her arms or her shoulders. Her snapback doesn’t fit her head, either, it’s too big and it looks stupid. Amanda almost says so.

“The whole point was not to waste the condom,” Amanda says, like she’s really going to go find some Swedish guy to give a hasty handjob to in the Village somewhere.

“Who says we will?” Hilary asks, and Amanda feels all the blood train from her face.

“Mine then,” Amanda says, “now, though, before anyone gets back.”

“Yeah,” Hilary agrees, “you go, I’ll be right back.”

That’s how Amanda ends up sitting on the end of her bed, waiting for Hilary to come find her. She’s left the stupid box of condoms on her nightstand, and she spends the whole time that she’s waiting wondering if she should take her shirt off or if she’s supposed to let Hilary do that. She’s never planned anything like this, only stumbled into a room with another girl, and it all just seems too _self-aware_.

Hilary meanders into the room holding a strap on and a bottle of lube in one hand. She really could have held one thing in each hand, and it feels like she’s trying to make a point, but Amanda isn’t sure what to look at. Her face is burning when Hilary drops the harness on the bed and tosses the tiny lube bottle in the air so she can catch it again, unnecessarily. It’s a lot of showmanship, and Amanda has to wonder if Hilary’s nervous.

“Airplane sized,” Hilary says.

“We checked our bags,” Amanda says, “you could have brought more.”

Now Hilary’s blushing.

“A little goes a long way,” she says, dropping the bottle on the bed, too.

“Take the stupid hat off,” Amanda says, and Hilary laughs, but she does it, placing it on the nightstand with a lot more care than she treated her strap on or the lube. She pulls her shirt over her head and Amanda finally has the chance to stare openly at Hilary’s abs. She wants to put her mouth on them, but Hilary really doesn’t need the ego boost. 

Amanda follows suit, and then Hilary is right there, kneeling on the bed, crawling on her hands and knees to press Amanda down into the mattress without touching her, settling with her knees next to Amanda’s hip instead of between Amanda’s legs like she wants. Hilary’s lips are dry when she kisses Amanda, and Amanda doesn’t bother to keep her hands to herself, sliding them instead up over Hilary’s forearms and biceps because she can. She’s already desperate for Hilary to touch her, so desperate she can’t decide where she wants Hilary to touch her most. Hilary makes up her own mind, holding herself up on one elbow and sliding one of her huge hands under Amanda’s sports bra. Amanda ends up with her arms around Hilary’s waist, and the kiss has just gotten better when Hilary rolls Amanda’s nipple between her index and middle fingers and Amanda has to break away to inhale sharply.

She dislodges Hilary so she can pull her sports bra over her head, and Hilary does the same thing. Amanda doesn’t get a chance to really look before Hilary is leaning her back into the bed again, this time with their upper bodies pressed together. The kiss is messy this time, both of their mouths open, Amanda working a hand into Hilary’s hair and snapping her ponytail holder loose.

Hilary ends up with her thigh trapped between Amanda’s legs, mouthing along Amanda’s neck while Amanda threads her fingers through Hilary’s hair and tugs a little. Hilary likes that, if the sound she makes against Amanda’s throat is any indication, and Amanda is aching, impatient, squirming against Hilary’s thigh.

Hilary sits back and tugs Amanda’s shorts and underwear down in one go. Amanda kicks them away, and she makes an embarrassing sound when Hilary slides a hand along her inner thigh and finally touches her where she needs it. 

“Fuck,” Hilary murmurs, her cheeks pink, and Amanda reaches up to pinch Hilary’s hip. She doesn’t want the attention of Hilary just touching her like this unless she’s going to do something about it, and she knows that Hilary can tell now _exactly_ how badly she wants it.

“Alright,” Hilary says, and she stumbles to her feet, shrugging out of her joggers and her underwear and almost tripping over herself when she slips into the harness. Amanda wants to laugh until Hilary gets situated, tugging the straps into place, and then Amanda is done feeling like laughing. Hilary looks good, comfortable, and Amanda almost reaches for her. Luckily she doesn’t, because Hilary tugs the hat onto her head again, brim backwards, and settles back on the bed with the tiny bottle of lube in one hand and a condom in the other.

“I hate that fucking hat,” Amanda says, reaching down to touch herself since Hilary has decided to take her time.

Hilary doesn’t answer her, just rips the condom wrapper open with her teeth. Amanda is about to tell her how stupid that is, how easy it is for the condom to break, but then it doesn’t actually matter. It’s kind of hot, anyway, she just doesn’t want to admit it out loud. She yanks the condom out of Hilary’s hands and rolls it on herself, and Hilary watches with her lips parted, eyes dark, still just holding the tiny bottle of lube.

“I can’t believe you packed this,” Amanda says.

Hilary snaps back into action, uncapping the lube, and Amanda licks her lips watching Hilary make sure things are going to be as comfortable as possible. She wants Hilary to stop touching anything that isn’t _her_ , but she doesn’t say so, instead she reaches for Hilary’s arms and Hilary gets the hint. She ends up hovering over Amanda again, holding herself up like before and guiding herself with her other hand. Amanda braces herself with her hands on Hilary’s shoulders, and she’s not quiet when Hilary finds the right angle. Hilary actually reaches up to adjust her hat before she rocks her hips until her and Amanda are flush, and Amanda makes a sound that’s half annoyance at the gesture and half satisfaction.

Hilary was right about a little going a long way. Amanda claws at Hilary’s shoulders, hiking her legs up over Hilary’s hips to draw her in closer, closer, every second even though they couldn’t possibly get any closer. She’s two seconds from asking Hilary to give her a little more when Hilary does it herself, holding onto Amanda with an arm around her shoulder and using the leverage to find a new, faster, deeper rhythm. Amanda whines, turning her head so she can bite at Hilary’s jaw and throat, and Hilary goes a little harder just for that, exactly like Amanda wanted her to.

They go on like that long enough for both of them to be damp with sweat by the time Amanda comes, but it’s immensely satisfying, her knees clamping against Hilary’s hips until it kind of hurts. She has a hand in Hilary’s hair again and she might be pulling a little, but Hilary groans again, turning into the pressure. Amanda is too busy almost blacking out to enjoy that tidbit too much, but when she’s done shaking and rocking up against Hilary’s hips, she brings it up, with Hilary still lying on top of her.

“You like having your hair pulled,” She observes breathlessly.

Hilary ignores her. She flops dramatically into her back and folds the condom very carefully into a tissue. Amanda is a little disappointed, because even though her whole body is humming and her limbs are numb she didn’t have to be done, but she doesn’t say so. Hilary reaches for another condom, and Amanda blinks. 

“Why get rid of the first one then?” she says, “you could have just—you didn’t have to stop.”

Hilary, propped up against Amanda’s pillows, is sitting so closely that they have to touch. Amanda rolls over onto her stomach, and the view from there is really something. She wants to crawl into Hilary’s lap. Hilary gives her a look that Amanda interprets as, _I thought you were done_. She gets it very wrong. 

“I thought we were switching,” she says. 

Amanda’s jaw drops. It’s ridiculous, but it happens, and if Hilary wasn’t already a little bit pink from exertion Amanda can tell that she’d be blushing. Amanda is blushing too, processing. 

“You want me to use that on _you_?” Amanda asks, really looking at the strap on now.

It was the perfect size for her, not too big or too long or anything, but imagining using it on Hilary makes her nervous. Hilary doesn’t seem fragile, but she doesn’t seem like a girl who would necessarily be into that, either. Amanda had just assumed Hilary was more of a doer. And Hilary is really, really good at that part, good enough that Amanda was able to get off like that without any help, which all comes down to, she thinks, something about the angle, finding a way to rub up against someone while you’re— she’s not sure she can do that. 

Also, she’s never tried it, and she doesn’t want Hilary to know it. 

“I thought you’d want to,” Hilary says, sounding a little crestfallen. She starts to take the harness off, and Amanda has a few seconds to process how much she wants to fuck Hilary like that before she says, “I mean, yeah.”

“Oh,” Hilary says. She’s pink again. Amanda is starting to get used to how much Hilary blushes when they’re naked together, but it’s still cute and surprising every time. It’s not that Amanda really thought Hilary was a fuckboy type, but she looks like it so much sometimes that it’s easy to forget there’s more to her. A lot more, apparently. 

“Here,” she says, handing the strap on over. It’s warm, and that means it’s Amanda’s turn to go red. She somehow manages to get on her still wobbly feet and steps into the harness. She’s so preoccupied with figuring out where everything goes that she loses track of Hilary, and when she lifts her head all the air leaves her lungs at once as if she’s been punched. 

Hilary is situating herself on her stomach, her hips propped up using both of Amanda’s pillows, the stupid hat still backwards on her head. She glances over her shoulder and makes eye contact with Amanda, who’s still frozen, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Hilary doesn’t say anything. She just watches Amanda expectantly with those big, brown, puppy eyes, her expression so open and calm that Amanda gets lost in it for a few seconds before she swallows and gets back on the bed. Hilary hands her another condom. Amanda is glad Hilary’s facing away from her, because her hands are shaking and it’s hard to open the condom wrapper, like she’s some seventeen year old nerdy guy who’s getting his for the first time. 

The thing is— the thing is _Hilary_. Hilary sprawled out in front of her taking up most of the bed, rolling her muscular, tanned shoulders. The graceful curve of Hilary’s spine, the trail of freckles between her shoulder blades, the tiny, soft little hairs on her lower back that stand on end when Amanda places her hand there. 

Hilary clears her throat. 

“Alright,” Amanda murmurs, uncapping the lube. Her hand is a mess, and she’s doing a bad job, getting it all over the dildo but also all over herself and the bedspread, and she’s sure her pillows will need to be washed too. She steadies herself with her free hand on Hilary’s hip and takes a deep breath, using her fingers first, half to make sure she’s on the right track and half just because she wants to touch Hilary with her own hands. Hilary’s back twitches, like she’s trying not to rock back against Amanda’s fingers, and Amanda _wants_ that. She doesn’t wait for Hilary to get frustrated enough to move back into her touch. Instead she straightens out her fingers, starts with two because of the lube and Hilary being so, so ready, like what they did before had already turned her on this much. Hilary lets out a breath and pushes back against Amanda, finally, and Amanda is reluctant to take her hand away. She knows how to do this. She doesn’t think she can be half as good with the harness. 

“Kess,” Hilary murmurs. Amanda takes her hand back, her heart pounding, and shuffles forward on her knees to line herself up. She takes it really slow, with her other hand on Hilary’s lower back, and Hilary groans. Amanda can see Hilary pressing her hands into the bed, and once her hips are flush with Hilary’s it’s her turn to take a deep breath again and make a sound she’s never heard herself make before.

Hilary looks so good like this. 

She makes one halting movement of her hips, not coming out very far, and then again. She feels like her movements are so jerky, and Hilary had been so strong and so _smooth_ about it when she was doing it that it makes Amanda feel inadequate. She tries going slower, and this time she feels it in her quads a little and needs both hands on Hilary’s hips to steady herself. That means she ends up pulling Hillary minutely back into her, and Hilary makes a sound that Amanda could only possibly describe as a whimper. 

Amanda is overheating and wired and repeats what she did before, and then again, a little faster, and Hilary claws at the bedspread. Amanda’s back and thighs are burning, but she loves it, she loves the way Hilary writhes and grinds back against her, and she’s surprised how much this is doing for her. She wonders, briefly, if she could get off this way. The base of the dildo is shaped in a way that she thinks she could, at least after already getting off once, if she really went to town.

Just thinking it makes her jerk her hips, pulling Hilary back against her. She feels dirty, like she’s doing something she shouldn’t, but then Hilary speaks.

“Yeah, Kess,” Hilary says, her voice tight like all the muscles down her back, “c’mon.”

The encouragement is all Amanda needs. She completely loses track of anything but Hilary, anything but making Hilary make some kind of noise. When Hilary gets close she turns her head, and Amanda loses it when she sees the expression on Hilary’s face, her mouth open, her brows furrowed. 

“Fuck,” Amanda gasps, because she’s suddenly very sure that she’s going to come before Hilary does.

“Yeah,” Hilary says, and then she says it again, and Amanda is so desperate not to embarrass herself that she reaches around to help Hilary along. She’s barely touched Hilary before Hilary’s entire body spasms. She pulls at the bedspread, pulls it half off, groaning and panting into it, trying to keep herself quiet. Watching Hilary’s shoulders hunch up sets Amanda off, and she’s afraid she’s hurting Hilary with how tightly she’s holding onto Hilary’s hips, but she can’t let go until she can breathe again, slumped over Hilary’s back.

Hilary breathes under her for a few seconds before Amanda rolls off of her. 

“Thanks,” Hilary says breathlessly when she rolls over onto her back. Their arms are touching. 

“Thanks?” Amanda says, “really?”

“What do you want me to say?” Hilary asks, and Amanda laughs, giddy, disbelieving.

“I don’t know,” Amanda says, “my brain still isn’t working.”

Hilary finally takes the hat off, but when she does it she just ends up placing it over Amanda’s face. Amanda whips it off and tosses it away, and now Hilary’s laughing.

“Told you that you didn’t need Tinder,” she says.

“Still have most of a box of condoms,” Amanda points out.

She has a feeling they won’t last long.


End file.
